The Tokyo skyline was sparkling outside my penthouse window, but my eyes were glued to a livestream: my son Andrew' s 18th birthday party. It was supposed to be his moment.
Instead, a smug stranger, Ethan Chavez, stood center stage, wearing Andrew' s custom suit and vintage watch, hailed as the birthday boy.
Then the camera panned, and my blood ran cold: my son, Andrew, was on his knees in the background, a human footstool for Ethan and his friends, his face pale with humiliation.